if I look into it I'll forget all my memories of you
by insomniacClarinetist
Summary: She tries to hate him. She fails.


Done for missaishu for the Tokyo Ghoul Secret Santa. Thanks for reading!

* * *

><p>"His name is Kaneki Ken," Arima tells her. "Alias Centipede, or Eyepatch. A victim of Doctor Kanou's ghoul-hybrid experimentation."<p>

Akira stares at the file in front of her. Kaneki Ken's picture stares back at her. "He doesn't remember anything?"

"No," Arima says. "And we intend to keep it that way." He pauses. "Kaneki is… not at fault for his actions. With time and rehabilitation, perhaps he can live as a human again."

She looks at the picture again, thinks about her father, about Amon, about Takizawa.

He peers at her over his glasses. "Do you think you can handle this?"

"Sure," she says, and it's not quite a lie.

* * *

><p>The flowers in her apartment are wilting, petals crumbling to dust. The floor has not been cleaned for several weeks.<p>

She stares out the window at the moon. Inhale. Exhale.

Why is it that Kaneki Ken gets a second chance after ripping her life apart, while she is left with nothing?

It isn't _fair_.

She feels as if she's a child again, with no mother, no friends, and only half of a father.

She's alone. Again.

Maris Stella curls snugly against her as she cries herself to sleep.

* * *

><p>She lays the flowers down carefully. She's not sure why she bothers.<p>

It's stupid, this tradition of visiting their graves that she's started. It's not as if there's anything beneath the drab grey headstones anyway.

She tells herself every time that this will be the last visit.

(She shows up the next week, anyway.)

What is it she's seeking here? Closure? Answers? Relief for her guilt?

She's not really sure anymore.

(Has she ever been sure of anything?)

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon," a voice stutters from behind her, and she peers at the newcomer from the corner of her eye.<p>

He bows, deeply. "First Class Mado Akira. I'm Third Class Inspector Sasaki Haise."

And so it begins.

* * *

><p>He's not quite what she expected, but she's not entirely certain what she was expecting, anyway.<p>

He's... good company. She hates to admit it, but he is. She wonders if this counts as fraternization.

She envies him, a little. He has no remembrance of his past, no painful memories that flare up and settle in his chest like lead.

She tries not to think about the fact that the happy memories he had are gone as well.

She tries to tell herself that it's better off this way, that he's happy here.

(Sometimes, at night, she wonders if there are people who miss him.)

* * *

><p>They're eating at her favorite curry shop one day, and he quirks an eyebrow at her choice of meal.<p>

"You like your food mild?" he asks, chopsticks hovering over his own dish.

She shrugs. "I guess so. Why?"

"You seemed like someone who would prefer it spicy, is all."

_I used to_, she wants to say.

The seconds tick by, and he stares at her, expecting an answer.

"That was a long time ago," she says finally.

"I see," he responds.

He doesn't ask her any more questions, after that.

* * *

><p>"Does that naan <em>resonaant <em>with your taste buds?"

She laughs. "I think you're in need of some retraining."

She's not becoming fond of him.

Not at all.

* * *

><p>She shouldn't have expected things to last as long as they did. It's what she deserves for becoming comfortable, she supposes.<p>

"Akira," Hirako's voice sounds in her ear.

"Leave it to me," she responds flatly. She raises the rifle, aims carefully.

"Take a rest for a while, Haise," she murmurs. And then she pulls the trigger.

* * *

><p>"Try thinking your situation through slowly," she tells him calmly, as if she isn't the one who just shot him.<p>

His breath is ragged, and he glances upwards as if in search of something. "I am… investigating Torso. As the mentor of the Quinckes."

It seems there's hope for him yet. "Who are you?"

"I am," he pauses, lost, and Akira's breath hitches. "I am Sasaki Haise."

She breathes out, not sure if she should be relieved or not. "That's right. You're Sasaki Haise." The lie tastes sour in her mouth.

* * *

><p>"He's starting to remember." It's not a question.<p>

She doesn't meet Arima's eyes. "I think so. He… wants answers."

His face is grim. "You know what you have to do?"

She exhales sharply. "Yes."

It's her duty. It should be easy. But knowing something and being willing to do it are two very different things.

* * *

><p>"Mado-san," he says cheerfully, as if she isn't poised to kill him. "Come to put me down?"<p>

She gazes at the floor studiously. "It doesn't have to be this way, Sasaki."

He smiles ruefully. "I need to know who I am."

"I'm sorry," she says, and swings Amatsu at his head.

His kagune intercepts it. "I don't want to hurt you," he pants, left eye colored black.

She swings at him again, and he ducks, narrowly avoiding being sliced. Why is he fighting so defensively? They both know he's capable of taking her out with one blow.

"There are people waiting for me. And I need to find them." He dodges again. "Akira, please."

She falters.

He glances at her carefully. "You should know better than anyone what it feels like to wait for someone."

His words barrel into her, and she takes a step backwards. "You have no right to say that."

"It's the truth, isn't it?"

She tries to muster up the anger to deny it, but comes up with nothing.

She hates him.

Well… she wishes she could hate him.

"... Mado-san?"

"Go," she tells him, lowering her quinque.

He hesitates. "I–"

"Before I change my mind."

There's a pause.

"Thank you," he says. "I… hope we can meet again one day. Not as a ghoul, and not as an investigator. As people."

She smiles briefly. "I'd like that."

She never sees Sasaki Haise again.

(Kaneki Ken is a different story.)

* * *

><p><em>fin<em>

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><p>Fun fact: I purposely referred to SasakiKaneki/Haiseki as "he" throughout the whole fic. This was partly because I couldn't think of what to call him exactly, and also because I couldn't think of what Akira would think to call him. So, in the end, I've attributed his lack of a name to a manifestation of Akira's own uncertainty of who he is.

Edit: I've gotten a lot of people asking me to continue this, so I'm considering writing an epilogue when I have time/am inspired.


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